


Research Heavy

by dracodesmadre



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arithmancy (Harry Potter), Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Height Differences, Librarian Draco Malfoy, Pining, Post-Hogwarts, Requited Unrequited Love, University Students, a little fast paced
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:22:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27060403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracodesmadre/pseuds/dracodesmadre
Summary: After leaving the Ministry of Magic, Hermione Granger returns to her research roots and joins an Arithmancy Studies university program. She spends most of her time in the library, for academic purposes of course, not because a handsome Draco Malfoy works as an assistant librarian. She doesn't notice how soft his hair looks, how long his fingers are, or how tall he is. She is strictly there to study Arithmancy.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 16
Kudos: 99





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After 12 years of reading Dramione, I figured it was time to start writing my own!

Hermione Granger wouldn’t say that she lived on the third floor of her university’s library, but all the librarians would.

Every day, precisely at 3 pm, she rushed through the doors and made her way to the stairs. Not many muggle students used the stairs, favoring the elevator, but all the magical students knew that to get to their floor, they had to climb three flights.

There was a myth that the muggle students loved to recite: their famed library had no third floor. On the elevator, the third floor button didn’t work, and the stairs had no door leading to it. Witches and wizards, however, could enter through the wall— the old magic was the same as Platform 9 ¾.

Magical students who attended this university did so only to study one subject: Arithmancy. The third floor housed specialized texts in Latin, Greek, Mathematics and Divination. This was the only place to read ancient scrolls, forgotten books and even old letters between fellow arithmancers.

Because of the difficulty (and dryness) of Arithmancy, only a small cohort of witches and wizards belonged to the program, and they were able to blend in with the muggle student population.

An eternal student, Hermione greatly enjoyed her studies, and not just for the academic rigor.

* * *

As she passed the Latin section of the library, a familiar head of white blonde hair caught her eye. He must be shelving the books I read yesterday, she thought with a thrill. She loved knowing his hands held the books her fingers flipped through.

This was Hermione’s first year in the Arithmancy program. After spending a boring decade attempting to work her way up the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry, she realized that bureaucracy was not for her. The change she wanted to create was too progressive for an age-old community built on centuries of prejudice. Her superiors often described Hermione as a bull in a china shop, but she knew no other way of getting across her ideas without being direct and straightforward.

She wrote to Headmistress McGonagall about her desire to leave the Ministry and perhaps venture back into academia. Research was an exciting pastime for her, especially Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. McGonagall invited Hermione to Hogwarts for tea and a discussion about her future, and that’s when she saw him again.

* * *

As Hermione rushed through the halls of Hogwarts to McGonagall’s office, she heard a deep voice projecting from a classroom. It was slow, deliberate, and familiar. She felt her legs gravitate toward the open door.

Draco Malfoy stood at the front of the class wearing an all black suit, so dark that his tie nearly blended in with his shirt, and heavy black robes. He was tall and made all the more imposing by his pale skin and blonde hair, now lazily parted to the side.

At first, he didn’t notice her hovering in the doorway. All of the students sat rigid as he spoke, taking notes and hanging onto his every word. Draco’s grey eyes caught hers as he glanced around the room.

“I discovered that incorporating Fenwick’s theory of numerology into-” he cut off mid sentence and stared at her, his mouth slightly parted.

The students’ heads swiveled to the back of the room, and everyone gasped. The Hermione Granger, war heroine, Golden Girl, brightest witch of her age, was standing in the doorway!

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said. “I just heard your lecture as I walked by. Would you… would you mind if I sat in?” Hermione gestured toward an empty desk in the back row. She was genuinely interested in his lecture, and to be honest, curious about this side of Draco Malfoy she had never seen.

He blinked, and then composed himself. “Of course,” Draco said. He felt his palms begin to sweat. “I’m just giving a guest lecture for Professor Vector on my arithmancy research.”

Draco cleared his throat and tried to pretend like Hermione Granger, the brilliant girl he tormented as a child, wasn’t sitting in the classroom as he taught his life’s work. He half expected her to challenge all of his conclusions, and although he tried to put on an air of aloofness, his hands kept tugging at his tie.

Hermione would’ve never guessed Draco was nervous. Every time he fingered his tie, she held back a sigh. Had Draco Malfoy reduced her to a lovesick teenaged girl? She quickly pulled out a notebook and quill from her purse to refocus and calm her fluttering heartbeat.

If she was being honest with herself, which she always was, Hermione would admit to having a bit of a crush on her childhood bully. He was so graceful whenever he practiced wand movements in Charms, while she felt so heavy handed. Hermione often caught herself staring at his long fingers as he cut ingredients in Potions. She discovered he had a nervous tick after years of watching him: he ran his hands through his hair.

Yes, Hermione often watched, well, she’d say observed, Draco Malfoy when he wasn’t looking. His face and demeanor were so different when he thought no one noticed him, and she found herself attracted to him. But she knew he’d never entertain her affections.

* * *

Draco forced himself to not look in her direction. He could feel her eyes burning into him, as they so often did. For years at Hogwarts, Hermione watched him. She watched him eat, study, walk, play quidditch, bully, and she nearly caught him crying in class until he remembered a wordless charm to prevent his tears from falling.

He never figured out why her chocolate eyes followed him everywhere, and he just got used to pretending like he never noticed. In sixth year, he even wondered if she knew about his task, or if she could see the dark mark and scars left behind by Bellatrix through his long sleeves. Part of him wished she did.

But his faux obliviousness was out of practice, and he felt a rising blush heat his cheeks. Time to wrap up this lecture a little early.

“Professor Vector has asked me to assign an eight inch essay on my lecture. I hope you all took extensive notes,” he said, avoiding Hermione and smirking at the outraged expressions on the students’ faces. “Don’t hesitate to owl me if you have any questions. I know the material can be quite…”

“Dense?” A Gryffindor girl called out. A few students snickered, and even Hermione hid a smile behind her hand.

“Right,” Draco replied. He ran a hand through his hair. “Class dismissed. Off you go.”

Would she leave as well? Did he want her to?

Draco turned his back to the classroom and packed up his papers into his brown briefcase. His heart raced, both excited and terrified at the idea of her approaching him. He remembered sitting in this very classroom as they took Advanced Arithmancy together, her pretending like she wasn’t watching him as he twirled his quill between his fingers, wondering if she liked what she saw or was disgusted by him. Most likely the latter.

“Hello, Malfoy,” her soft voice said. He turned and found that she was much closer to him than he thought.

* * *

He worked during the week from 3 pm to midnight, and he had weekends off. Hermione came into study during those times, for academic purposes, she told herself.

It had nothing to do with the fact that Draco often wore horn rimmed glasses, or whispered huskily to patrons as he helped them find books, or how his height allowed him to reach the books that she was too short to grab. She’d pretend to be embarrassed and thank him quietly while he offered her a small smile.

Hermione had to come up with excuses to interact with him. Once, she asked for his help to find a very specific letter in the Arithmancy archive. She waited for him in the Reading Room, disappointed that she couldn’t follow him into the archive. He brought out the letter, a nearly crumbling piece of parchment illuminated with a yellow light.

“Because of its age, this letter needs to be kept under an archival stasis charm,” Draco said as he laid it down on her desk. “You can touch it, but please handle it with care.”

“That is fascinating,” Hermione breathed. She caressed the parchment with her hand and marveled at how she could feel the heat of the stasis charm.

“Let me know if you need anything else, Granger,” he said. Hermione wistfully watched him walk out of the Reading Room to disappear between the library shelves.

* * *

“Granger,” Draco responded. He nodded his head at her as he turned around, his hand tightly gripping the handle of his suitcase. “How did you find your way into my classroom?”

“Well, I have a lunch appointment with Minerva,” she said. “And I heard you lecturing, and you must remember how much I loved arithmancy in school. I had to pop in.”

“Of course, you bested me at it,” he said as he offered a warm smile. He wanted her to see how much his personality changed, as much as one could from a short interaction.

Hermione laughed. “I believe I topped you in every subject, except Flying,” she said. “I’ll give you that.”

He was always coming in second place to her. As a foolish, prejudiced child, he couldn’t believe a muggleborn, a mudblood, constantly beat him. But by fourth year, he accepted his second place position, and privately admired her. Not that he would’ve ever admitted that out loud. Draco just found that he was attracted to the best of everything, including girls.

“So what did you think?” he asked. He was desperate to know what she thought of his research. She was brilliant, and he spent years on his thesis.

She pulled out her notebook with all her lecture notes. Draco looked at her incredulously, then barked out a laugh. “You took notes? I suppose I wouldn’t expect anything less of Hermione Granger.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yes, Malfoy, I did. In fact, I have a few questions.” She listed off seven questions before Draco interrupted her with a small smile.

“Granger, have you thought about conducting some research of your own?” He asked. Draco reached into his robes and pulled out a pamphlet. The words “Join Arithmancy Studies at the University of Oxford” were in bold across the page, with the university logo. Hermione gawked in surprise.

“Oxford?! But I thought that was a muggle university?” She nearly shouted.

“It didn’t start out that way,” Draco said. “It was initially established as a wizard university, but when the wizarding population began to die out from witch hunts, the university decided to admit muggles and hide their magical studies. After a few centuries, less and less wizards applied, so they decided to specialize in one subject rather than offer a multitude of classes to a small group.”

“I had no idea this even existed,” she said as she reached for the pamphlet. The tips of her fingers brushed across his hands, and Hermione had to hold back a sigh. She began to flip through it.

“The department asks me to pass these out whenever I give guest lectures on the off chance that a student will want to apply,” he said. “Let me know if this is something you’d be interested in.”

“I am definitely interested,” Hermione rushed out. “Um, interested in the program. In Arithmancy.” She wanted to die at how awkward she was and hoped he didn’t notice her stumbling over her words.

Hermione glanced down at her watch, and realized that she was 20 minutes late for her meeting. “Oh Merlin, I am so late,” she said and ruefully looked up at Malfoy. Was that disappointment on his face?

“It was nice catching up with you, Granger,” he said. He ran a hand through his hair, tousling it to the side.

“Thank you for letting me sit in. I truly appreciate it,” Hermione said. She smiled warmly and walked out of the classroom before he could respond.

Draco’s breath nearly caught in his throat. He only ever saw her offer such a smile to Potter and Weasley during school.

As Hermione again rushed through the halls, she couldn’t help beaming at every random student, ghost and portrait. She was never late for anything, but on that day, she couldn’t be happier for the cause of her delay.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being a day late! 
> 
> Things will get steamy in the next and final chapter hehe.

Hermione Granger was everywhere. 

When Draco shelved books, he could hear her skirt swish past him and smell her perfume. Something floral, perhaps gardenia? He’d close his eyes and breath deeply until he couldn’t smell her anymore. 

When Draco helped patrons, he could feel her staring, and oftentimes caught her eyes. She’d smile shyly and drag her eyes back down to her work. Hermione would lean forward, letting her hair act as a curtain to shield her face from his questioning gaze. 

When Draco led workshops on how to cast archival charms, she’d be in the front row, hanging onto his every word and writing furiously in her notebook. She was undoubtedly the most attentive student he’d ever had. 

He noticed that she wore the same colors every day: cream, brown and red. Cream turtlenecks, brown skirts, and red lipstick. Cream wrap dresses, brown kitten heels, and red lipstick. Cream long sleeves, brown corduroys, and red lipstick. Her slightly frizzy hair trailed down her back in curly tresses, occasionally pulled into a messy bun on the top of her head. 

Draco sometimes caught male patrons ogling her. He’d roll his eyes in irritation, knowing he had no right to feel the hot flash of jealousy in his chest. They’d approach her desk to try to strike up a conversation, and her response never disappointed: “Excuse me, I’d love to talk but I really need to finish this assignment.” She gave the same forgiving smile as they sputtered apologies and hurriedly walked away. Draco never could suppress the smug smirk that graced his face during these rejections. 

* * *

Academia was a world Draco Malfoy could rebuild himself in. After his family’s public trials, he was eviscerated in the media and became a social pariah. Draco and his mother were on house arrest together for two years, while his father was locked away in Azkaban. 

He spent most of that time in the Malfoy Manor library. His family owned a plethora of books, and he plunged into their depths. Real-life was nearly unbearable, but the amount of focus that his research required helped him escape and even produce a few worthy essays that he submitted to several arithmancy journals. 

Draco expected his work to be spat on, burnt, and discarded by the journal editors. He never thought that he’d be published, and he certainly never deigned to imagine that the faculty of Oxford’s Arithmancy program would recruit him as a student. 

Every time he attended class his first year, his hands shook with anxiety. He prepared himself to be bullied and mocked, which was a common occurrence whenever he went to Diagon Alley or other wizarding locales. But that never happened. Instead, he was treated as another student in the Arithmancy program, someone trying to further their field’s limited research.

In lecture halls, he could sink into a chair, take notes and lose himself in the stern voices of his professors. His essays, always thoroughly edited, were thoughtful and bold. Draco found that his research was the only way he could present himself and not be met with taunts of “death eater scum”. True, some immediately dismissed his work when they saw his name on the cover, but most in the arithmancy field were interested in new discoveries. 

A quiet life of research, books and solitude was all Draco Malfoy brought himself to hope for. 

* * *

She always sat in the same spot. A lone desk closest to the window, where the sun shone through and acted like a spotlight on her. Whenever Draco stood at the circulation desk, he’d sneak glances at her studying. Her light brown hair glistened golden in the sun, and he couldn’t look away. 

Hermione shifted in her chair a lot, and Draco wondered if it could be from discomfort. He knew from experience that the chairs could be rather stiff and cause back aches.

One evening, she shifted quite a bit and appeared restless. Hermione got up and rushed toward the numerology section of the library, far out of sight. Before Draco could think about it, he stealthily whipped out his wand and cast a cushioning charm on her chair. 

He busied himself with arranging returned books on his rolling cart. When Hermione walked back to her seat, he peaked up through his lashes to see her reaction. She sunk into it and looked confused, then looked up and caught his eyes. Her answering grin was stunning, and she mouthed “thank you”. 

Draco couldn’t stop smiling the rest of his shift. 

* * *

There was no way Hermione could be remotely interested in him. She was desired for her mind, body and reputation, coveted by universities, men and the damn Ministry of Magic. And he was her childhood tormenter. He flinched whenever he remembered how he treated her at Hogwarts. 

_Every afternoon, Viktor Krum sat next to her in the library and watched her read. It was comical to see his hulking, massive frame hunched over a desk with little Hermione Granger. Draco would laugh if the sight didn’t enrage and confuse him so much. How could this mudblood dare have a boyfriend? How could she bring him to the library, where Draco and Hermione had an unspoken truce of peace?_

_Krum got up from his seat, leaned down and whispered in her ear. She smiled and kissed his cheek, a faint “I’ll see you at dinner,” reaching Draco’s ears. Draco waited for Krum to leave the library before descending on Hermione._

_“Hey Granger,” he said. “You teach your mountain troll Krum how to read yet?”_

_She rolled her eyes, and her small hands clenched into fists on the table. “Viktor happens to be extremely well-read,” she said. “Now, please go away. I have that Potions essay to complete.”_

_Draco didn’t like being dismissed by her. He glared down at her face, which was sunkissed from the uncharacteristic good weather Hogwarts had been having lately._

_“I have no idea what someone like Krum is doing with you,” he said. And he truly didn’t. She was an intelligent swot, and Krum a dense quidditch player. “Ever think that he feels pity for you, little mudblood? Seeing you walk around alone because nobody can stomach your shrill voice and matted rat on your head that you call hair?”_

_His breath caught when he finished speaking. The jealousy, the anger, the disgust churned in his stomach, and when he saw Hermione’s eyes shine with tears, he almost apologized. But he sneered instead, remembering what his father always told him: Malfoys never say sorry_. 

* * *

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

Hermione looked up from her book with confused eyes. Draco stood in front of her desk and had his eyes locked on her stack of books. He spent the day building up the courage to approach her and only had five minutes before his shift ended. 

“You’re sorry? What for?” she asked. 

“For everything,” Draco said. He rushed out his next words. “For everything I did at Hogwarts. I treated you like shit because I was a prejudiced bigot. And I put all our classmates in danger. But I’m most sorry to you. You never did anything but want to learn, and I mocked you at every corner.” 

He rubbed the back of his neck and squeezed his eyes shut. “I look back on that time and cringe whenever I remember how I treated you… how my family treated you. You were just a child, and we tormented you. I just want you to know that I am deeply, truly sorry, and I can’t go another day of seeing you without apologizing.” 

When Draco dared to open his eyes, she looked straight at him. Her mouth was slightly parted, and tears slid down her cheeks. Guilt and regret took hold of his body, nearly choking him. 

“Draco, I forgave you a long time ago,” Hermione said. “We were both just children. And I’ve read the transcripts from your trial. I know you were tortured and cursed, too.”

“That doesn’t excuse what happened or my role in it,” he said. He desperately wanted to occlude, but he knew it would only hinder his ability to apologize. And she deserved more from him. 

“I know,” she said. “And I’ve forgiven you. I’d like to move past the war if you don’t mind.” Then she flashed a beautiful, sincere smile at him. Draco was distracted by her pillowy lips, and the selfish part of him wanted to lean in and kiss them. Yet he knew he could never have her. 

“I’d like that too, but I don’t deserve it,” he responded. 

She abruptly got up from her chair and walked around the desk until she stood directly in front of him. He had to crane his neck and peer down his nose to look her in the face because she was nearly a foot shorter than him. 

Hermione was so close he could faintly feel the warmth radiating off of her body. Her scent pulled him in, the gardenias and soft hint of vanilla filling his nose. Draco felt his knees go weak, and he barely suppressed the desire to press his body into hers. 

“What I deserve is to focus on arithmancy and not discuss the war,” she said. Her hand reached forward and pushed his glasses up his nose. Draco held in his breath as he felt the tip of her finger brush the bridge of his nose. “Now, let's agree to be friends and move on.” Hermione smiled softly and turned away from him. She began gathering her books and stuffing them into her bag. 

“I’d love that,” he breathed. “I mean, yes, friends. That’s a good idea.” 

He desperately wanted to be around her, hear her thoughts, see what made her smile, hell, even sit next to her like Krum got to back in fourth year. Draco would take whatever she’d give him. 


End file.
